


dearly beloved

by leonhartous (orphan_account)



Category: Amazing Spider-Man (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/leonhartous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You still think about her." It surely wasn't a question. Mary Jane was so sure of that – reality digging deep beneath her skin – but she didn't know why she had to state it out loud. Peter Parker, Mary Jane Watson and Gwen Stacy. Author is not a fluent english speaker, beware of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dearly beloved

## 

dearly beloved

It is on an afternoon when Mary Jane is told about that.

Flash is shifting on his shoes while he tries to be as soft-spoken as he can be while dealing with that kind of matter. Tries so desperately to not cry or let his voice break inside his throat while saying those terrible, terrible words.

“Gwen is dead.”

The boy doesn’t look at her face – he is scared to do so - instead he starts to concentrate on the pictures that are over the living-room table. When Flash spots a familiar impeccable smile and long blond hair he shifts his gaze as quickly as the first tear rolls down from his eye.

“Oh.” Mary Jane can’t muster any other word. She feels an enormous lump starting to grow inside her throat and, suddenly, she thinks that this might be another of Flash’s mean jokes. The redheaded girl then looks directly at the boy at the other side of her living-room hoping to see the mischievous hint of a hidden laugh, anything but the lonely tears staining his face.

Gwen is dead. Not sick, not gone for a quick trip. Dead. Mary Jane won’t be able to ask for help with the chemistry homework or tell Gwen that she can’t wear that pink cardigan because it’s just plain ridiculous. She won’t be able to do any of that anymore, because her best friend will soon be buried seven feet under the ground.

Flash leaves without saying anything when Mary Jane sinks to the ground, knees scrapping against the wooden floor.

What is left to say, anyways?

  


* * *

  


He was supposed to save her.

Peter couldn’t think straight with all the explosions happening around him. His head was nothing but a massive adrenaline rush telling him to move faster, dodge faster and finish the Green Goblin once and for all. Everything around him seemed to be a mix of the falling rubble, the smell of gunpowder and that damn shade of green that kept on attacking and vanishing and…

When Peter heard an horrified scream everything is reduced to just a single important thing. 

“Gwen!”

She fell from the bridge. She fell and Peter did the only thing he could to save her. When the spider web reached her leg the sound he heard wasn’t a relieved sigh, but a loud crack - might as thunder - of a snapping bone. 

Spider Man tried to save Gwen Stacy, but the only thing he did for her was break her neck.

  


* * *

  


It is an annoyingly sunny day during the funeral.

Mary Jane tries hopelessly to focus her attention in anything but the cold stone in front her. She looks at her shoes and pathetically tries to remove the wrinkles on her black dress. Gwen hated wrinkles; Mary Jane just ignored them. 

When that isn’t enough to take her thoughts – her mind - away the girl starts to look around at all the sad faces. Some are distant - unfamiliar - probably relatives. But others are so familiar, so close to her that she feels her chest ache. Miss Stacy was inconsolable. First she loses her husband, and now her daughter. When the poor woman hugged the gravestone and refused to let go, Mary Jane closes her eyes painfully. Harry and Flash stood side by side, not ashamed to cry for their lost friend. The girl started to wonder why she refused to cry or even to scream.

She was never one of those “beautiful while crying ladies”. Her nose started to run down and her cheeks got too red, it was certainly not a pretty sight. But the worst of all, whenever she cried it was Gwen that made her calm down. “Breath Mary Jane, just breath.”

If she let the tears fall right now, there would be no Gwen to comfort her.

So, at least for today, she holds her head up high – proud like her friend always told her to be – and refuses to let one single tear escape.

When Mary Jane is alone at home she screams and writhes as if the broken neck was hers.

“Breath Mary Jane, just breath.”

  


* * *

  


Peter saw everything from afar.

The people gathering, the priest speaking those beautiful - heavy - words, the tears rolling down through sad faces like the rain that should have fallen to reflect their misery. There was no signal of clouds on the sky, a humble mockery from a greater force above. Ironic, just like his attempt to save her.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. But, then again, Uncle Ben wasn’t supposed to be dead too. Sometimes, Peter thinks that he only brings disgrace to those around him and nothing that he did – no matter how noble, how good – would ever repair that. Like right now, there is a whole bunch of things that just… Were not meant to be.

Miss Stacy shouldn’t be a widow, or even have to burry her own daughter. Flash and Harry should be the normal silly but good boys and not these sad and serious men he sees now. Mary Jane was supposed to ask her best friend to come over her house for a girl’s night and Peter… Peter should have a girlfriend, maybe a wife on a close future.

Spider Man should have been a hero.

And Gwen Stacy should not be dead, buried beneath the dirt and the tears and all that regret. She was supposed to be here with him, laughing of this crazy possibility of death. Laughing, crying, and screaming out of her lungs like the burning living thing she always is. Were.

The boy sank to his knees, mud and water soaking his clothes.

The gravestone read something like “Gwendolyne Stacy, loving daughter and friend”. Peter chuckles as he remembers how much Gwen hated when people called her by her full name. She would cringe and them say something like “It’s too long, just Gwen is fine.” in her polite but angry voice tone.

She would loathe that stone just as much as he loathes it now.

  


* * *

  


“You weren’t there.” Mary Jane gave a small pause. It still was too uncomfortable to say those words. “At her funeral, you know.” Some part of the girl’s heart thought that it was better like that; uncomfortable, unwilling and unwanted phrase slipping out of her trembling mouth like a pained whimper would from a broken soul.

“I just can’t.” Something dark and deep within him stirred and remembered him that it wasn’t Peter the one who couldn’t face Gwen’s grave. “I can’t look at that cold stone and accept she is dead.” Couldn’t accept that the last thing Gwen saw wasn’t Peter Parker’s face, the boy she loved, but the masked guilty look from Spider Man. 

“But she is.” She knew that it was cruel, that those words escaped from her throat and came with cutting and sharp edges that pierced both her and the boy. And it hurt; it hurt so much she thought she could die from it. But Mary Jane wanted someone to hurt so badly, to suffer and be in pain as much as she is now, even if it meant she would hurt twice as bad. She wanted Peter to feel miserable, to not be able to get out of his bed in the morning and she didn’t even knew why. The redhead just knew that goddamned burning feeling circling and writhing inside her body like liquid fire ready to hurt, to burn and burn until there was nothing left on the ashes to tell the story. When the girl saw the faint hint of suppressed tears on Parker’s eyes she continued. “And you have to accept that.” And so do I.

“I’m sorry.” The words sounded as meek and pathetic as he looked right now. “I am so sorry.” Peter had said those words while holding Gwen’s dead body, her head resting against his chest in an unusual and wrong way, the beating of his desperate heart falling into deaf ears.

“Flash and Harry said that I should try to understand why you weren’t there. That you were the one that took it harder.” Oh please, that wasn’t a goddam competition to see who could be in more pain. Mary Jane was so angry, so, so angry. And it was frustrating to know that it was a misguided sort of feeling; that it would vanish someday. She didn’t want it to vanish. “But I don’t want to understand, Peter. You are the one that should have been at her funeral more than anyone.”

“You don’t understand!” He just wanted her to shut up for a minute. To stop making him feel worse than he already was. Peter wanted all the hurt to go away. “Stop talking as if you knew about everything.” About how much he loved Gwen, about how bad he wanted to go back in time and make it right.

“Oh yeah?! So do you Peter!” She screamed with everything inside her lungs and let all that anger burn her completely. “Stop pretending you are the only one who cares.”

Mary Jane left him alone with his thoughts after that. And it hurt twice as bad.

  


* * *

  


It started with this silent and mutual agreement.

When things got calmer, when there was no more hurt feel and no more pain to cause – no more guilt and no one else to blame, they decided that it was time to apologize.

“I’m sorry.” It sounded shallow and fake from both sides. None of them was really sorry and they would surely not hug and pretend nothing ever happened. Mary Jane and Peter would just try to start from scratch, picking up the pieces that were left from a strained friendship.

They knew that if they didn’t do that there would be no one else left. Gwen was not there by their side anymore, so they would have to endure it together.

_I’ll be here for you when you need me. And I hope you do the same for me, so please don’t ever leave._

  


* * *

  


It was disgusting, that thing they insisted on calling a relationship.

At least he admitted that it was repulsive, Peter always thought of that whenever everything started to get too hard and he desperately needed to feel better with himself. He knew deep down that he was just trying to replace Gwen. Sometimes Peter just tried to imagine how could he go so low.

But every time his mind told him he reached the lowest and deepest he could, Mary Jane never failed to kiss the corner of his mouth. And everything would be ok again, just for a while. And when everything felt ok and he didn’t think of himself as a sort of monster Peter always kissed Mary Jane back and thanked her for all the good things they have been through together.

At night, the boy dreams with golden hair and a disapproving stare.

  


* * *

  


Mary Jane remembers lots of things; her memory is something she has always been proud of.

She remembers her childhood and every other time of her life with many details that when tied together make a beautiful pattern she likes to look back when she feels sad. Mary Jane never cherished those memories like she cherishes them now, almost everyday.

The girl reminisces the smell of her grandmother’s cookies, of playing with the sprinkler on the hot summer days… The first time she met Gwen. Mary Jane indulges on those memories as if she was desperately pleading to go back in time. To go back and never meet this horrible future she hates so much.

Mary Jane thinks that there was a time when she didn’t need Peter Parker’s presence or half-hearted kisses to feel ok. There was once a time in her life that Peter was one of her best friends, and not just a poor replacement for someone that she insisted on keeping close to her heart.

She remembers her best friend’s sermons; every word and every stern look Gwen ever gave her, and – for the first time – Mary Jane loathes her memory as if it would help to ease the pain of knowing that Gwen would probably hate her now.

  


* * *

  


Peter likes when people touch his hair. Brushing it or petting it, he will never be able to say that he doesn’t likes it. It might be quite girly, but it is very relaxing. The feeling of someone’s fingers passing through his locks always helped to calm him down, like a lullaby to an infant.

Gwen brushed his hair whenever she could.

“You need to learn to take proper care of your hair, you know?” She complained in an everyday basis and laughed whenever he used one of his witty answers. The sound of her laughter ringing like small bells and spreading a warm feeling from his heart to his tip-toes.

“But I’m a boy. I don’t need to.” She would smack his arm and get back to working on his hair.

Now it is Mary Jane who brushes his untamed mane. It doesn’t feels quite the same as before, he ponders and tries to concentrate on the sensation of the hairbrush going through his scalp. Gwen always used her fingers.

“Your hair is nice for a boy, you know?” The girl says in a tone quite distant for someone who was just behind him, the hairbrush just a little too harsh on it’s work on his locks.

Mary Jane liked to brush Gwen’s long hair, brush and fingers smoothing glossy blond tresses while small girly talk rolled around free as a bird. Those times were their little sanctuary; something Peter was always reluctant to take away from the redheaded girl whenever he called Gwen’s attention all to himself.

Sometimes, Peter wonders who is the one replacing whom.

  


* * *

  


Mary Jane thinks it’s quite of an obvious answer. 

They are both using each other, staying together more out of need than out of desire. It’s pathetic, this yearning for a kind of support no one else understands. It’s pathetic, it’s repulsive and she hopes that everyone keeps on thinking they are the perfect couple, so she can pretend she is a good person. She can pretend she is happy and not this myriad of emotions convulsing inside her gut and threatening to spill and hurt anything in it’s way.

Mary Jane Watson is not a good person. But Peter is worst for being so nice and loveable and making her reluctant to just stop, to let it go and never look back again.

If she stops, then the pain will be just hers and no one else’s. It will hurt and burn and she will finally be freed from this self-imposed prison, finally being able to move on. But, then again, the pain will be just hers and no one else’s. She will be alone. Alone, alone… Just the plain word makes her feel terrified like a child on a stormy night, completely and utterly afraid of the blank future ahead.

So, instead of letting go, she drags Peter along with her.

And, together, they will sink way past hell.

  


* * *

  


“You still think about her.” It surely wasn’t a question. Mary Jane was so sure of that – reality digging deep beneath her skin – but she didn’t know why she had to state it out loud just for the pain and the hurt to fall in deeper between them. They didn’t laugh over stupid things anymore, nor did them look back to the happy and distant past longing for it to come back.

They just stood still and unmoving.

“You know, if this is supposed to be a lecture it would work better if you didn’t do the same thing.” Peter’s voice was rasp like sandpaper, unintentionally meant to hurt. And oh, just so tired.

Both of them openly admitted thinking of Gwen, not really caring for anything else that would come – that was supposed to come. Those thoughts went on and off like dim light every time, everywhere… Missing the blond haired girl was as natural as the blue on the sky and the constant light breeze on summer. A constant, deep red and pulsating pain.

Mary Jane and Peter sort of got used with it after sometime. Living with that bittersweet feeling inside their chests was the proof that Gwen once was together with them and that they loved her as much as they could. 

The girl then stayed silent once more, afraid of the side effect of any other words. She just sat down by his side and leaned her head on his shoulders, letting Peter’s hand squeeze hers tighter until her knuckles became white.

  


* * *

  


“I love you.” It doesn’t sound as shallow or as fake as she thought it would before saying those words out loud. Mary Jane bites her lips and fidgets with her fingers nervously as she waits for an answer. She knows he has no reason to believe her, not with everything that was said or left unsaid before, but she just wanted to say it out loud.

And she hoped Peter would believe her, because it might be true, she doesn’t know.

It was not the perfect and undying kind of love, not like in the movies or the stupid paperback romance novels. It was just… The only thing she could ever give him after her best friend died, a strange kind of feeling. It was wrapped in all kinds of good intentions and gratitude and she let herself hope he would accept her humble – small pathetic – offering of so called love.

“I know.” Peter gives her a smile that was sadder than anything she ever saw and pulls her close for a hug and a kiss over her eyebrow. “I know…” And he squeezes  
her body in a tight embrace as if it was supposed to be a kind or reassurance.

He didn’t say he loved her back, and as small part of her heart felt finally at ease. Mary Jane knew that Peter was never good with words, and if he said anything to intrinsic and pretty it might be as good as a lie. She knows he has feelings for her, but doesn’t know exactly what kind, but then again, she can’t name what she feels either.

Maybe beneath all this thick layer of pretending and gods know what more they do love each other, in a wry and maybe wrong way that only broken people can understand. In the only way they can love and the only kind of feeling their hearts are willing to give. Mary Jane smiled and hugged him back.

It was enough. 

  


* * *

  


And those are just another two broken hearts in a world that is already so full of them.

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> And like in every other work I have ever done, I am so sorry for any mistakes regarding grammar or spelling.
> 
> I don’t really know what to say… Because it is quite confusing and I don’t know if I wrote what they were feeling in a accurate way.
> 
> Well, Peter feels guilty, Mary Jane is/was angry because she thinks Peter thought he was the only one in pain and Gwen… She is dead, and there’s nothing that could change that.
> 
> Please tell me what you think (:
> 
> xoxo
> 
> shizu.


End file.
